


In which Hermione buys a dress

by lexisflexis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dress shopping, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Harry is supportive, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexisflexis/pseuds/lexisflexis
Summary: Harry accompanies Hermione to Diagon Alley





	In which Hermione buys a dress

**Author's Note:**

> Sappy & crappy, this has happened because I'm going through a phase where I can't read enough plain ol' Harry & Hermione friendship fics. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing fanfic since I was about 15 and I bashed it out in about 20 minutes so...sorry in advance. Reviews are welcome!

~~~

He finds her sat at a sunlit corner table of the Leaky, drumming her fingers absentmindedly on the rim of her water glass.  

Harry nods to Tom as he wends his way over to Hermione. The pub isn’t busy yet, thankfully, and he suspects (gratefully) that Hermione knew it wouldn’t be. She beams at his approach and rises from her chair to wrap her arms around his neck. 

“Thank you for doing this,” she murmurs into his shoulder. 

“I anonymously volunteered Ron to be Mortman’s junior on the Selwyn file. He’ll be working late.” 

Hermione snorts. “He won’t thank you for that." And as they exit, "I hear Mortman took a bath about a week ago, so the next one won’t be due -“

“For about a month,” Harry grins. “Serves him right for telling everyone about the runaway Bicorn.”

“That  _was_ funny though...”

 

Together, they make their way through the subdued hum of Diagon Alley. It’s not its usual bustle yet, the odd wix leaving work early to peer through shop windows, young children hanging off their mother’s arms while the latter sort through beetle eyes. An aged warlock with a kneazle on his lap eyes them as they pass.  

Hermione walks purposefully towards Madam Malkin’s, Harry keeping pace. He doesn’t mind tagging along, he thinks, glancing at the small diamond glinting up at him from her swinging hand. After all, these days he barely sees Hermione away from their fortnightly dinners at the Burrow and the occasional rushed elevator encounter at work. It’s nice to see her when she’s not looking at him cross-eyed over a tower of parchment. 

As they walk, Hermione discourses about why she’s chosen Madam Malkin’s over the - apparently - numerous dress designers in Diagon Alley (“they’re all so  _fussy_!”) and how her father is banned from ever engaging with Arthur about dentistry again (“twenty-five minutes on  _veneers_ , honestly, I thought Molly was going to have a fit,”). Harry hums along.  

 

Pushing open the door of the shop, Hermione turns to look at him. “Thanks again for this, Harry. I would’ve dragged Ginny along again if she was here, or mum, but,” she trails off as they enter and an assistant hurries forward to take her bag. 

“Gin sends her love,” Harry helps, following her in. “And she wants you to owl her a picture of the one you choose. She says she hopes you go with the, er, sweetheart neck one.”

 Hermione chuckles as they’re ushered into a back room. “Neck _line._  She would. She liked that one best. Well, if she wanted to keep persuading me, she shouldn’t have taken off to Wales for three weeks.”

“They’re playing Puddlemere next month,” he starts, but Madam Malkin bustles in with two garment bags floating ahead of her.

“Now, dear, we’d narrowed it down to these, hadn’t we?” She doesn’t wait for Hermione’s response, but gestures towards the dressing rooms. “Off you go in there, and Mr Potter,” she smiles at him in that way that they all do, fond and grateful and awestruck, “can take a seat.” She chivvies Harry towards a large plush chair and he sinks into it. She flicks her wand and the bags follow Hermione as she disappears behind the dressing room curtain. 

Harry lets his mind wonder to Ginny, probably covered in mud and squinting through the rain while her captain shouts them through another gruelling training session. He smirks and settles further into the comfortable chair. 

Hermione’s voice floats over the curtain. “How’s Teddy doing?” He fills her in on his godson’s latest antics, which involve turning his recent teeth into fangs whenever he is denied whichever sweetmeat he’s set his mind on. They laugh while Madam Malkin fusses around, eventually peeking around the curtain to see if Hermione needs help with her fastenings. 

“Oh, how lovely! Let me just - good, that’s it - now step out here and let’s see it properly!”

Harry looks up as Hermione emerges from the dressing room, self-consciously patting down the folds of the wedding gown. He can’t help it. He gapes at her. Hermione raises her eyebrows at him.

“That good, eh?”

Madam Malkin trills and bends over to measure the skirt, which is slightly too long and crumpled at the hem. 

“I can see why Ginny likes it,” he manages, by way of response. It’s certainly not anything like Hermione’s usual style, with the tight bodice and large, flowing skirt. She hums undecidedly, rubbing her elbow and accidentally flicking Madam Malkin in the nose. 

“Oh - sorry!" She looks to the mirror, frowning. "I...like it a lot. And I think Ron will like it too.” She adjusts the fabric around her chest, shifting carefully so as not to accidentally pop over the top. Harry averts his eyes to Madam Malkin, who is now directing the train to arrange itself gracefully around Hermione’s feet with her wand.  

“Ron will definitely like it. Molly might not,” he adds, and Hermione grins, fleetingly wicked. “But it looks...really beautiful, Hermione." He pauses, then - "you’ll blow everyone away.” Truthfully.

She gives him a small smile, and looks at Madam Malkin, who nods. Hermione studies herself critically in the mirror for a moment. She allows herself an exaggerated pose, hand on hip, lips pouting. Harry laughs. “Ginny would approve,” he says, nodding, while Hermione does a small twirl. “Let’s see the other one, then.”

 Hermione takes a little longer with the second dress, and Madam Malkin tuts busily and disappears into the front of the shop to tend to another customer. Harry shifts in his chair and thinks about Ron, holed up in Mortman’s pungent office. He grins to himself. 

“Alright,” comes Hermione’s voice, a million years later. “Ready?”

 “As I’ll ever be,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes and stretching lazily. 

 Her head peeks out at him first, and he feels his idleness give way to sudden, ridiculous anticipation. He raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

“It’s a little less...flattering,” comes from behind the curtain, “but it’s - well -“

“Just let me see it, Hermione.”

Slowly she steps out, holding his gaze steadily this time. “It’s actually modelled on my mum’s wedding dress. Madam Malkin agreed to copy the original design, but she’s taken away some of the lace and changed the shape of the neckline and the sleeves...tried to make it a bit more modern...”

Harry is silent. He gazes at her, taking it in. It’s simple, structured where the other dress is floaty; high-necked where the other, well...isn’t. Where the other one stuns, transfigures...this one (he can't explain  _why_ ) conjures memories of  _levioSAH_ , of cat-whiskers in a flooded bathroom, of foot long incisors and periwinkle blue dresses, of yellow birds, bluebell flames and rib-crushing embraces. He tries to find the right words. 

Hermione’s hand shifts awkwardly across her embroidered chest to adjust the fabric on her shoulder; she is still watching for his reaction and Harry can’t speak because his tongue has now glued itself to the roof of his mouth. It’s all hitting him at once: this is his best friend and she is getting married to his other best friend and it’s happening, it’s really happening, and she looks expectant and lovely and different and but still so overwhelmingly  _Hermione,_ allnose-in-a-book and “ _honestly,_ Harry” but she's grown up now, they all are, they're happy and safe,  _safe_ , they made it through everything and here they are, two of them getting  _married_ , his friends are getting  _married to each other,_ he is going to be the best man at his best friends’  _wedding_ , just like Sirius all those years ago-

“Harry?” She tugs at the lace sleeve around her wrist. 

Harry feels his vision blur and, alarmed, blinks rapidly. He swallows. 

“That one,” he says, simply. She sighs in relief and looks towards the mirror. 

“I’m glad you think so. It’s secretly been my favourite, but mum and Ginny were so taken with the other one...”

Harry shakes his head. “Definitely that one. It’s more...”

\- They both look at her reflection in the mirror, heads tilted, considering -

“Me.” Hermione decides. Their eyes meet in the mirror. Harry nods. 

“You.”

 ~~~

 

Thanks for reading!

 


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